Undeniable
by finncarter
Summary: After the man she loved was taken away, Eira Hallington has been trying for twelve years to forget him. He is released a broken man. Will she be destroyed in the process of putting him back together?
1. Eira

Disclaimer, I don't own anything except my OCs.

AU where Harry defeated Voldemort in October 1981 so the Wizarding world has experienced twelve years of peace. Featuring Pureblood politics, with a (slightly) less corrupt ministry. Set in Harry's third year but he is not really a big part of the story. As Voldemort was dead he grew up with Frank and Alice Longbottom (not insane) so will be featured but not heavily.

enjoy!

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**Eira**

Sometimes she imagined that she could hear him laughing, the type of laugh that still belonged to him in the days before stubborn politics and a war had gotten in the way of their friendship. She could remember his eyes, the way they would find her across the room, filled with laughter before the inevitable shrieks of outrage in response to whatever mischief he had wrought. The dreams were the worst, grey eyes dark with anger and accusation. She would wake before the sunrise and write letters; to be burnt with the lighter he had lent her and never gotten the chance to take back.

Even in the years they had been married, John had given up trying to coax explanations from her. He had quickly learnt to leave her alone in the mornings when cigarette smoke floated in from the balcony, another bad habit she had learned from _him_. John had pretty much given up with her altogether, preferring to spend time with his mistresses than his _beloved_ wife who couldn't move on. She wondered how it had taken him this long to realise she didn't love him, that their marriage was a carefully constructed farce designed to please her parents and the society pages.

Perhaps it was a blessing it had all ended when it had, when the Prophet had caught him and bimbo number 4 in an alley and she had finally had the opportunity to divorce the man she had married in the hope he would make her forget. (Ironic, when years later all she wanted to do was remember.) The months following the divorce were an unpleasant blur of late nights and thick coffee, a dozen disappointments rolled into one in the form of one night stands with dark hair and arrogant smirks.

She was quite sure she could have ignored the world for an indefinite amount of time had Amelia Bones not decided to review the Death Eater trials in the summer of 1993.

Remus had come to see her when he heard the news. "Eira, you do realise that this means his case will be reviewed?" he had tentatively asked, and she had told herself that she most definitely did not need Remus Lupin to remind her of this fact. "Why would this concern me?" she had frostily demanded of him. "We were no more than passing acquaintances many years ago" and Remus had looked at her with pity in his eyes, neither of them mentioning how she had known who he was talking about without mentioning a name.

She squashed the wave of emotion that threatened to engulf her and politely demanded that "Mr Lupin" address her by her proper title, acting every inch of the spoiled pureblood heiress she had been before she had met _them_. Remus had smiled sadly and excused himself with a demure "Lady Hallington" and a nod. Cursing in her head she remembered that Remus, who had always been able to read her better than anyone, could surely see what was going on in her head.

The 27th July was obnoxiously bright. Eira having given upon sleep several hours ago had spent the time refreshing her knowledge of the family ledgers. She was almost horrified that she had neglected her duties to her House to such an extent. From now on, she was determined to forget _him_. He would be back in Azkaban in a few days regardless whether she put her life on hold for him or not. She had bid the house elves to clean her Wizengamot robes, dusty from years of disuse and disregard, and prepared to reappear to the public as who she had been before the whole mess had begun.

Her father would have been appalled she had chided herself, not to mention what her grandmother would have said. She flooed to the ministry in a swirl of green flames and fire, determined to at least appear stronger than she was. A lady was never to appear weak after all and she had managed far too many years of that already.


	2. Remus

Disclaimer: I don't own anything etc.

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**Remus**

He was lucky that he had even managed to gain entrance, yet Amelia was an old ally and had allowed him a seat on the end of the gallery among the other lowborn. It was cramped and his sight was blocked by the large monstrosity, sorry, hat belonging to the woman in front of him however it was a seat nonetheless. Despite its precarious position, the seat gave him a good view of the gallery and he recognised many of the Lords currently taking their places. The majority of the highborn lords had managed to escape the War relatively unscathed, their money and positions making them untouchable from both sides. The nobility had not been without casualties however. Remus noticed that despite there only being six empty Lords chairs (three of which had died out long before Voldemort was even born) many of the seats were occupied by the family regent, holding the position for the young heir (in the majority of cases the last of their family) to come of age.

He also noticed the new Lord Trevalyn could not have been more than sixteen years old and Lord Booth still possessed a line of blond fuzz on his upper lip- not having yet made the transition from boyhood to adult. It was altogether ridiculous that these _children _could have the power to make decisions in the government yet that was the way the wizarding world was run, as it had traditionally been for hundreds of years since the days of Arthur, Lord Pendragon. After the fall of Voldemort, the ministry had become even stricter and only now twelve years later was it beginning to relax a bit more, hence the revision of the Death eater trials (although Remus thought that was more to do with Amelia than anything else).

"Lady Hallington of Highclere, Countess of Berkshire" the warden announced. Remus looked up in shock; he had not expected her to be here today. She had not attended the wizengamot personally for over ten years, sending her steward in her place and nobody had expected her to break her self-imposed exile for some Death eaters. When he had gone to see her in June she had looked haunted, like nothing he could say would bring that light back into her eyes. Remus closed his eyes, "What are you doing here Eira?"

Of course she looked beautiful as ever, her face set in a mask of pure indifference, her dark hair a startling contrast to her pale skin and violet eyes. She had always been beautiful so if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine it was her at twenty years old, laughing along at something James had said. The illusion wouldn't last though; he always could see past her mask. When he looked closer he could see the bruises under her eyes and her shaking hands. She was thin as well, almost unhealthy looking with her aristocratic cheekbones jutting out at sharp points. Remus often wished he could go back in time; however nothing made him wish to go back to happier times then the sight of his old friend looking for all intents and purposes like she was wasting away before his eyes.

The reaction to her entrance on the gallery was no less extreme, with old Lord Ashcroft almost falling out of his chair and Lord Carter scowling visibly. Remus supressed a smirk, the Carters had been trying to get hold of Hallington lands for decades and old Carter had married his son off to Eira a couple of years after the war. He had never forgiven Eira for the damage his family's reputation had suffered, or the compensation he had had to pay. She had always known how to deal with people she didn't like, he mused with a laugh.

He could hear the hat lady in front of him assessing the situation. "That's Marcus Hallington's daughter" she whispered to her neighbour, who was in possession of an equally distressing hat. The neighbour nodded eagerly. "I heard she hasn't stepped out of the house in ten years" she continued. "And there were certain rumours", she paused delicately, "at the time, you know how it was". The neighbour nodded solemnly as if about to impart a great truth, "I heard that her Father provided the funding for most of You-know-who's activities".

Remus would've corrected them if it wouldn't have done more harm than good. The idea of Marcus Hallington giving any money to a known half-blood, no matter what his agenda was, was laughable. Marcus giving money to anyone, family included was a rare occurrence. He had met the man once, at one of the Potters Christmas parties and remembered his handsome appearance, roaring laugh and the unfathomable violet eyes he had passed onto his daughter. James had later cautioned him that despite his jovial appearance, the Earl was a cunning and dangerous man who hadn't got his high position in society without treading on a few people's toes, advice that had stuck in Remus' mind for many years.

He was shaken out of his musings by Amelia Bones entering, as the head of the Department that had put forward the review, she was overseeing the cases. The morning passed slowly, major death eaters such as the Lestranges returned to their cells with increased sentences. Remus saw many of his year mates from Hogwarts pass through and thanked the gods that he had chosen the right side. He was almost losing hope that _he_ would've been included when the warden announced the next prisoner to be addressed was "Lord Sirius Black of Rochester, Earl of Kent".

Despite expecting it, Remus felt like someone had knocked him over the head. "This is what you came for" he reminded himself sternly. He chanced a glance upward to the Gallery and his eyes found Eira looking perfectly uninterested except for her pale skin and her hands clenched around the arm of the chair. The Lords around her were much more obvious, the House of Black had previously held a prestigious position in society and this would determine their future. If Sirius was sent back to Azkaban the Black family would die out and his entire estate would be seized by the ministry, the worst insult imaginable.

**Eira**

When she heard his name called, she was shocked beyond measure. The significance of his full title had not escaped her, or any of the older Lords in the gallery. The ministry was sucking up, as they always were and Sirius would go free for certain, the only issue left to debate concerned what the Ministry wanted, or likely who had paid them and how much they were willing to give to get it. She wasn't sure what she thought about his freedom, she hadn't spared the time to think that after all these years that he would be going anywhere but back to Azkaban.

"_Innocent",_ the word even felt foreign on her tongue. She hadn't allowed herself to even imagine the possibility of him not being guilty, lest the memories of how he had begged her to believe him resurface despite all the time she had spent suppressing them. She heard them in her dreams often enough, "_Eira, please… I'm begging you… I didn't do it, how could I have",_ the begging would turn into accusations, into anger, "_You left me here to die",_ and the worst, "_You never loved me". _That one would stay for days, ricocheting around her mind, taunting her. "You could have saved him", it sung, "but you didn't believe him" and the voice laughed, taunting her, visions of her Sirius dead, against the wall, in the sea, crumpled up next to her. It was much easier to selfishly believe wholeheartedly in his guilt despite what her heart was telling her.

When she wrestled free of the memories, they were listing the terms of Sirius' release. He was to spend as long as necessary in St Mungo's for his physical and mental healing. The ministry would also give 100,000 Galleons per year that he had been falsely imprisoned, and a press conference would be held after his recovery. She could see him nodding tiredly, the spark in his eyes long gone. She looked at him properly for the first time since they had brought him out. He was gaunt, and his once luxurious hair was limp and stringy. The scariest difference was in his body language however. As long as she had known him, he had a presence in a room. He filled up the space with his laugh and his confidence. This Sirius was tired and could easily be overlooked in a group of people; he looked like he had given up all hope.

"And it's your fault", reminded the voice inside her. She could do nothing but agree. Azkaban had destroyed Sirius. After the trial was over, she had turned around to talk to Lord Flint, one of the minor Houses sworn to hers, so she could avoid all eye contact should he look up. Only once he had been taken to the Hospital did she allow excuse herself. That evening Eira cried alone, for the loss of the man she loved. Whatever role she had played in the situation, Sirius had gone into Azkaban a strong man and had returned little more than a shade of his former self. She had never once considered the possibility that he could lose the very parts of him that made her fall in love with him in the first place, and the surprise of it made her grieve for the life that they would never live, that had been taken away from them.


End file.
